


Too Much To Ask

by onwardtoneverland



Series: All That We've Been Through [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onwardtoneverland/pseuds/onwardtoneverland
Summary: Jemma knows that sleep should come easily. She should be able to lie down in her bed at night, close her eyes, and drift off into a blissful, uninterrupted slumber until morning. She should not be woken by the insatiable urge to run or defend herself, nor should she fear closing her eyes for too long because she thinks that something will catch her off guard. But that is precisely how she sleeps nowadays, or rather how she hardly sleeps at all.Just when Jemma truly believes that she’ll never be able to return to herself, she finds solace in Daisy and their evolving relationship.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Series: All That We've Been Through [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/191708
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	Too Much To Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so it's been FOREVER since I've updated this series, but I had this sitting my drafts for so long, and I finally had the inspiration to finish. This story takes place after Jemma's return from the desolate alien planet after being sucked into the Monolith in Season 3.

Sweat gathers into the creases of Jemma’s unsettled fingers as Fitz putters with stripped wires and electrical connections next to her. She zones in and out, mind thrumming in time with fan oscillating in the corner of the room.

“Jemma,” Fitz whispers.

Snapped from her vacant stare, Jemma glances quickly at Fitz’s form next to her. He diligently stares at the mess on his portion of the desk. “Yes, Fitz.” Jemma’s voice is hoarse, unrecognizable to even her own ears. “What is it?”

Fitz sighs. “If you’re tired, Jemma, you should try to sleep somewhere other than the lab.” Wires scatter as he drops them. A pointed and worried look greets Jemma when he looks up at her.

Jemma winces and coughs to cover her embarrassment at being found out. “Fitz—”

“No, Jemma.” He leans against counter. “I know you’re tired. You should go lie down.” His arms cross in front of his chest as he stares Jemma down. “Please. You look like you’re ready to keel over.” A deep frown takes purchase on his face, drawing a crease in the middle of his eyebrows.

Jemma licks her lips. “I’ll try.” The metal stool under her _screech_ es against the floor as she stands. “Will you let Daisy know where I am if she comes looking for me?” She sees Fitz nod. “I think I’m going to make some tea before I go to my room.” She closes her laptop.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Fitz’s solemn look warms Jemma just a bit. Appreciation seeps into her bones at the kind words. Having a friend like Fitz is something she is always grateful for. 

“I will. Thank you.” Leaving the lab, Jemma heads towards the kitchen with slow steps. Hardly anyone passes by her during her walk. Those who she does come across receive a miniscule smile and a polite nod. Everyone was shocked, to say the least, when she returned through the portal by Fitz’s side. And she doesn’t fail to notice how cautious people are around her, like she’s a fawn easily startled by any noise.

She turns around the threshold of the kitchen, nearly colliding with May. “Sorry,” she gasps. 

May nods, the corners of her lips pulling downward, and lightly rests her hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “It’s okay.” Her hand squeezes. Once. Twice. “Well, duty calls.” The older woman nods, expertly slithering out of the room behind Jemma.

The redhead turns to watch her leave only to swing back around at the sound of a throat clearing.

“Simmons.” Coulson’s voice is soft and comforting to her. “How are you doing?”

“Just fine.” She forces a smile. “I’m making some tea. Would you like some?”

Coulson closes the file in front of him. “No. I have a few errands to finish up.” He sits his empty cup in the sink, pausing for the briefest of seconds, before staring at Jemma.

The teakettle on the stovetop begins to boil, the low rumble of the heating water filling the tense silence. Jemma settles her hip against the countertop. “Anything else, sir?”

Coulson purses his lips and slides his gaze across Jemma’s face. “Take care of yourself, Simmons. We couldn’t do most of what we do without you. Don’t forget that.” He squeezes her shoulder as he passes. 

Jemma deflates, shoulders sagging low, and a pained breath leaves her—a hint of a sob catches in her chest. 

“If you need anything let me know. I’ll do my best to help.” Coulson disappears out into the hallway as Jemma lets a silent tear fall.

That night she barely sleeps—a giant and mutant creature tears her ribs from her chest one by one. When she’s able to wake herself, she screams into her pillow with agony.

\--

Daisy is throwing punches at both Bobbi and May when Jemma enters the training room. May deflects each and every blow, but Bobbi receives a few unlucky, or lucky in Daisy’s case, hits to the chest. Their sparring ends with Daisy’s back hitting the mat with a loud thud. May stands over her triumphantly. Bobbi smiles through her heavy breathing.

“You’re not turning your hips enough when you strike.” May straightens her sweatshirt. “You need to have control. Here,” she gestures to her own midsection.

Daisy nods, standing quickly and bending over so that her hands land against bent knees. She breathes slowly in and out. “More core workouts?” The grimace that overcomes her face oozes discomfort and distaste.

“More core workouts,” Bobbi affirms. She plops herself down onto the mat and stretches out her legs in front of her. Her feet shift, expanding and contracting the muscles in her calves.

May nods. “Exactly right. We’ll do this again at the end of the week,” May generously gulps the rest of her water bottle, “after you’ve had time to get in more individual training.” She looks pointedly at Daisy, one eyebrow arching in silent authority.

“Got it. I’ll make sure that I get more time in the gym.” Daisy raises a hand in acknowledgement. “If you don’t mind…” She falls against the wall behind her. “I’m taking a break after the ass kicking I just received.”

May quirks her lips up at the corners as she lets out a small laugh. She leaves quietly after that, nodding quickly to Jemma before her exit.

“So,” Bobbi intones. “How much of that did you see?”

“What are…” Daisy stops as she finally notices Jemma near the doorway. “Hi.” Her smile is bright and unrestrained.

“Hello,” Jemma responds.

Quietness overcomes the room, one that leaves a chasm of unspoken words and unanswered questions that seem to swirl around the shared space.

Bobbi clears her throat, effectively breaking Jemma’s staring contest with Daisy. 

“Oh, I didn’t see much.” She returns her gaze to Bobbi. What she finds is an amused smirk and raised eyebrows. Jemma laughs lightly. “Actually, I did catch the very end.”

Daisy groans. “Basically, you watched me get my ass handed to me, right?”

“Pretty much. Yeah.” Jemma smiles. Her fingers weave together and break apart as she glances between the two women. She can’t help but feel a little lighter and more at ease.

“Yep,” Bobbi says, pushing herself to her feet. “I’m going to grab something to eat. Do either of you want anything?”

Jemma watches the calculated way Bobbi gathers her water bottle and towel, stealing obvious glances between herself and Daisy. If Jemma weren’t as perceptive as she is, she wouldn’t be able to distinguish the fact that Bobbi is in a hurry to give them time to themselves. Something that they haven’t had much of after things started becoming normal once again. Jemma reminds herself to thank Bobbi for it later as she shakes her head at Bobbi’s question.

“Nah. I don’t need anything.” Daisy stretches her left arm in front of her body. Jemma watches her muscles flex and contract underneath her shirt.

Bobbi clears her throat.

“See you later, Bobbi.” Jemma smiles, following Bobbi’s rushed movements out of the door. Her cheeks burn at being caught ogling Daisy.

When she faces Daisy once more, she finds honest eyes and a tentative smile. Jemma licks her lips.

“So,” Daisy stretches her legs out in front of her, “how’s it going?”

“Good. I mean, as good as it can be.” Jemma nods, almost as if trying to convince both Daisy and herself of the fact that everything is _good_.

“Right. Yeah.” Daisy fiddles with her knees, fingers clenching and unclenching against the fabric underneath her fingertips.

Jemma feels the silence grow ominous and constricting once again. Despite her best attempts to make herself comfortable in the real world, Jemma has yet to navigate towards the easiness of what their relationship used to be. Internally, she winces at the awkwardness, but she voids her countenance of any expression whatsoever.

“Jemma…” Daisy’s voice sounds broken and haunted, much like Jemma feels inside her mind. “I want to help. In any way that I can. You know that, right?”

She swears she sees tears in Daisy’s eyes, and she panics. Retreating into the space she’s created for herself that doesn’t allow anyone in, that doesn’t let her release all of the pent up loneliness and exclusion. Instead, she makes the choice to fall into the darkness once more. “I know. You know I do. It’s just hard.” And no matter how hard she tries to conceal it, a warm tear falls down her cheek. “I need some time, Daisy. But when I’m ready, I’ll come to you.”

Daisy nods, but Jemma knows that she doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t comprehend why Jemma pulls away when it feels like they’re finally getting somewhere. Jemma leaves the room as an apology dies on her lips before it can reach Daisy’s ears.

That night she dreams of Daisy’s body, motionless and bloody, at her feet. Tears flow freely from her as she gasps for air. Sleep evades her once more.

\--

Her fingers slide together smoothly, much easier than her courage manifests itself. She’s been standing outside Daisy’s room for a while now, and she still cannot convince herself to even knock on the door. 

She’s been keeping her distance, watching from afar, not allowing herself to get close to Daisy again. Fear of pushing Daisy too far, too much, occupies her thoughts. She imagines different scenarios wherein they rekindle their once effortless relationship, but other times it doesn’t resemble any happy ending that Jemma wishes for. 

She conjures arguments turned into screaming matches and situations that leave them both in tears, and one horrifying development ends with the both of them parting for good, never to see the other again. Like now, she imagines the forthcoming conversation ending badly.

Jemma doesn’t get to dwell on those for too long because as soon as she begins to spiral into doubt and despair, Daisy swiftly opens the door, which startles them both. “I’m sorry.” Jemma’s words are quick and sharp. “ I shouldn’t have said—”

“Jemma.” The look on her face is enough to tinge Jemma’s cheeks a light pink. Daisy takes a moment to observe her, from the slope of her brow to her splotchy cheeks to her mouth. It’s only moment, small and fast, but for Jemma it feels like hours.

“I want to say something,” Jemma whispers.

“Okay.” Daisy smiles minutely, taking a small step backwards into her room.

“I’m sorry for being so distant lately. It’s been difficult.” Jemma pauses, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and looks down at the floor. “Adjusting to everything. I feel like a different person than I was before. I know that in some ways I am, but…” Jemma takes a small step towards Daisy. She pulls her eyes upwards, wanting to maintain eye contact with the woman in front of her. “I’m still me, too. And I want to try to figure out how to get back to being myself. And I want to get back to being the way _we_ used to be. I miss it. I miss us.” Jemma feels tears gather in her eyes. “I miss **you**.”

Daisy nods. “Is it okay if I hug you?” Her eyes hold nothing by sincerity and affection and honesty, and Jemma internally sighs in relief.

“Yes.”

And then Daisy’s arms surround her. Comfort and safety flood her veins. This finally feels like coming home.

\--

Jemma breathes heavily through her nose. Her limbs jerk in shaky, sporadic movements. She jolts upward, frantically searching for something to defend herself. She grasps something warm and soft, and then she hears a muted yelp. She looks to her right with wide, unfocused eyes. Daisy’s pained face blurs in and out. 

“Jemma,” Daisy whispers. Her voice, distorted to Jemma’s ears, sounds like she’s drowning. Gurgling, really, against the invisible water clouding Jemma’s mind. “Jem, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Jemma feels insistent fingers against her own, which grip Daisy’s arm with an unwavering harshness. Jemma breathes unevenly, trying to take in as much air as possible, but she struggles to feel the oxygen entering her lungs. She gasps harder.

“Jemma.” Daisy’s face and voice trickle in and out, clouded by the static permeating Jemma’s eyes and ears. Though she desperately tries, calmness evades her. 

Jemma chokes on the breath that won’t cooperate with her lungs. She shakes her head as she tries to clear the image of sharp claws and razor-like teeth. She chokes out, “Daisy.” Her breathing stutters. “I can’t. Please.” 

“Hey.” Daisy grasps her hand firmly. “Jemma, focus on me, okay? Just look at me. Listen to my voice.”

Warm fingers slide across Jemma’s knuckles, slowly bringing her out of the darkness. The haze of panic affecting her vision dissipates with Daisy’s soothing words. “I need…” Jemma gasps once more, shaking her head.

“Breathe with me.” Daisy counts, willing Jemma to do the same. Still conscious of her uneven breath, Jemma realizes that her lungs are basically useless and unable to hold a steady rhythm.

“I can’t.”

“Okay, loosen you hand.” Daisy gently clasps Jemma’s hand. “Can you do that for me?”

Jemma feels her fingers slacken, and then both of her hands are quickly pressed against Daisy’s. The brunette’s palms are warm against her own, and she shivers at the innocent contact.

“How many fingers do I have?”

Jemma shakes her head at the absurdity of the question. “What?”

“Count them with me.” Daisy presses her palms harder into Jemma’s.

“One.” Jemma presses one of her thumbs into Daisy’s. She quickly recites _two_ as she glides her index finger against the inside of the brunette’s own index finger.

“Keep going,” Daisy insists. “You’re doing great.”

“Can you...” Jemma gasps less harshly than before, but relief still escapes her.

“I will.” Daisy locks her middle finger in between Jemma’s middle and pointer finger. “Three.”

“Three,” Jemma repeats. “Four. Five.” Her fingers slide against Daisy’s. She interlocks her hand with Daisy’s.

“Six.” Daisy says, sliding her thumb against the outside of Jemma’s palm. Her index finger locks into the space between Jemma’s thumb and index finger. “Seven,” they both say at once.

“Eight.” Jemma breathes easier, and Daisy’s face comes into clear focus. “Nine.” She licks her lips as she locks eyes with the woman across from her. “Ten.” She notices the softness and stability that Daisy’s hands offer her. Her thumb automatically smoothes over the softness of the brunette’s hand, and almost immediately, calmness overcomes her.

“Are you okay?” Daisy scans her eyes over the expanse of Jemma’s face, and she feels open and vulnerable, but not uncomfortable. She feels peaceful, more so than she has since she returned.

Unable to verbalize her well-being, Jemma merely nods, thumb still stroking softly over Daisy’s hand. Her eyes remain locked onto Daisy’s worried gaze, and she watches the anxious demeanor recede from the brunette.

They sit across from one another, taking each other in, as the quiet permeates the air around them. It’s still and soothing, and Jemma realizes that this is the best she’s felt in weeks. All thought of worry or anxiousness drowns against the current of Daisy’s fingers sliding over hers, her eyes, soft and understanding, and her even, controlled breaths.

“Thank you,” Jemma whispers. Her heart beats slowly in her chest.

“Of course.” Daisy untangles their fingers, and Jemma immediately misses the warmth and connection. “Are you fine with lying down?” Daisy motions towards the pillows.

Jemma sighs in relief, but then something strikes her. _What if I have another nightmare?_

Daisy places a hand on Jemma’s knee. “We can cuddle, if you want.” Her voice waivers. 

Jemma finds herself nodding quickly, and she laughs to quell the nervousness sinking back into her system, but this time it is not born of fear. “I would like that.” She smiles at Daisy, who merely chuckles under her breath. 

Jemma settles against the pillows next to Daisy. She fidgets with her fingers, debating whether or not to burrow herself into Daisy’s side. She feels a hand grab her waist and she’s suddenly pulled into Daisy’s space.

“This okay?” Daisy’s voice is close to Jemma’s ear, and warm breath cascades across her neck, making her shiver. 

She nods, forehead knocking slightly into Daisy’s chin. “More than okay. Thank you.” Jemma settles herself closer, wrapping her arm around Daisy’s torso. She falls into a blissful sleep quickly with Daisy’s heartbeat thrumming steadily under her ear.

\--

Daisy makes a habit of finishing up business with Coulson, and then climbing into bed with Jemma. Something that Jemma is quite grateful for. 

Some nights, Jemma stays up until the early hours of the morning waiting for Daisy to open the door, strip off her jacket and pants, and crawl into the empty space Jemma leaves for her. Other nights, Daisy is in Jemma’s room before Jemma even considers going to bed.

On one particular night, Jemma sluggishly enters her room, drained from the work the lab offers her, and she finds Daisy curled up in the middle of the bed, Jemma’s pillow clutched in her arms. Her chest rises and falls steadily. Jemma doesn’t have the heart to wake her, so she settles herself into the bed next to Daisy, head resting on the same pillow as the brunette. 

In the morning, she wakes with a strong arm around her middle and Daisy’s nose buried into the back of her head.

\--

“Coulson wants me to go with him to D.C.,” Daisy mumbles against Jemma’s temple.

Jemma shifts next to Daisy, moving her head away from the brunette. “Really?” 

Daisy looks down the bed and wiggles her fingers. Jemma reaches a hand out, trapping Daisy’s fingers against her stomach, which draws the brunette’s gaze back up to her own. 

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Jemma says, not really believing the answer leaving her mouth. “And, anyway, you haven’t been on a mission in a while, so you’ll be able to get back into the groove of things.”

Daisy laughs. She nudges her nose against Jemma’s cheek.

“What?” Jemma laughs with her, even though she doesn’t comprehend what is so funny to Daisy.

“Get back into the groove,” Daisy says, still giggling.

“Oh.” Jemma huffs out a laugh. Her lips find Daisy’s forehead easily. 

Daisy wraps her arm around Jemma’s middle, just above her hips. Jemma curls her fingers around Daisy’s elbow, rubbing small patterns into the fabric of her shirt.

Daisy sighs, and it billows against the hollow of Jemma’s throat. She feels grateful for Daisy’s easiness and encouragement and protection. She doesn’t think that she could ever properly thank the woman next to her for all the comfort she’s given her, but she hopes she can. One day.

“Are you sure? I can tell Coulson to take Lincoln,” Daisy says suddenly, possibly interpreting Jemma’s silence as one of uncertainty.

“No, you should go.” Jemma buries her nose against the top of Daisy’s head, pulling her closer. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from doing your duties.”

“Jemma.” Daisy’s voice is soft and unsure. “We both know that I can stay. If you need me, I will stay. I lo--” Daisy stops herself, freezing her body into a stiff line.

Jemma holds her breath. They hadn’t verbalized anything resembling an admission of love to one another since she returned. They said it in the soft touches and lingering glances and nights spent huddled together in Jemma’s bed. But they haven’t said it out loud.

“I know,” Jemma mumbles. “I know, but you should go. Coulson needs you. I don’t want to keep you here. I’ll be okay.” Jemma sighs when Daisy deflates against her, body relaxing into Jemma’s arms.

Sleep is scarce for Jemma as Daisy dozes in and out next to her. The last thing she remembers is worrying about another nightmare and Daisy’s safety on her impending trip. But she wakes the next morning, slightly refreshed with Daisy tracing invisible lines against her arm and letting her eyes roam across Jemma’s face.

\--

The week slumps along slowly. Much too slowly for Jemma’s liking. The first night without Daisy is riddled with short bursts and flashes of previous nightmares. 

Two days later she dreams of holding Daisy’s limp body in her arms, begging her to just breathe. When Jemma wakes, she’s grasping the cold, untouched sheets beside her. Tears roll smoothly down her face, and her breath catches in her throat. A croaked _Daisy_ leaves her lips.

She quickly remembers holding Daisy in her arms a few days prior, and calms only slightly. Her hands still shake against the grip she holds on the sheets.

Jemma breathes deeply. _In. Out._

The clock on the bedside table reads two a.m., and Jemma can’t stop herself from reaching for her phone. It rings twice before she hears a muffled _hello_ on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry,” Jemma hears herself say. “I didn’t—”

_What’s wrong?_ Daisy’s voice is strained in Jemma’s ear. She shudders a deep breath.

“You’re okay.” Jemma can’t help the corners of her lips quirking slightly upward.

_Yeah. Are you?_ Jemma hears the sheets rustle.

“I’m better.” She pauses. “Now.” Tight laughter bubbles from within, coaxing relief through her veins.

_Are you sure?_

“Yes. I’m sure.” Jemma wipes her eyes.

_Do you want me to stay on the phone until you fall asleep?_

“I would like that very much.” Jemma settles back into the sheets, half on her side and half on Daisy’s. She swears she can still smell Daisy’s shampoo on the pillow. “Thank you.”

Daisy sniffles on the other side of the line. _Anytime you need me, I’ll be here._

Jemma bites her lip, burrowing further into the slowly warming sheets. “I love you.” A soft, barely noticeable gasp pounds through the speaker next to Jemma’s ear.

_I love you, too._ Jemma thinks Daisy sounds relieved and elated and surprised. An amused laugh ripples through her.

A tear slides down her cheek.

“I’m a mess.” She shakes her head at the impossibility of the situation.

_If you’re a mess, then I’m a mess, too._ Jemma’s ears pick up the sound of giggling, which only makes her laughter stronger.

“Thank you.”

Jemma hears a sigh. _I already told you, anytime you need me—_

“I know. I know.” Jemma yawns, exhaustion finally creeping into bones. “Goodnight, Daisy.”

_Goodnight, Jemma._ It’s the last thing she hears before falling asleep with her cellphone wedged in between her ear and Daisy’s pillow.

\--

“The field team is pulling into the dock.” Fitz’s voice is hushed, words smashed quickly together, as he whispers into Jemma’s ear. “Thought that you would like to know.” He exaggerates a wink, and moves back to his station.

Jemma smiles down at her desk, thoughts running wildly and nerves vibrating, finally letting relief and calmness fully wash over her. She stands and says, “Fitz, I’m going—”

“No. No need to say anything. Go see your girl.” Fitz waves his hand in the air, not bothering to turn around from his laptop.

“Thanks, Fitz.”

Jemma all but sprints from the room. She glides down the hallways at a quickened pace and passes other SHIELD team members with a smile that stretches wide. The transit bay doors whoosh open in front of her before she can comprehend her feet taking her there.

Coulson stands tall at the bottom of the ramp. His arms cross stiffly at his chest, just watching the team unload the heli-carrier.

May saunters down the ramp carrying a large duffle and a backpack slung over one shoulder. She glances a Jemma and smiles, honest to god smiles, and Jemma feels giddy.

“Good to see you, Simmons.” May’s smile turns to a smirk. Her voice lowers to a whisper, “She’ll be out in a minute.”

Jemma airily laughs as May passes her, drawing the attention of Coulson’s rigid form. He lowers his shoulders slightly, but keeps his arms tight against his chest.

“Simmons.” Sunglasses cover his eyes. “Are things going well in the lab?”

“Absolutely. Fitz and I have found new updates for the Inhuman database so that we don’t have to be as invasive as we are now. It’ll give them more privacy while still allowing us to maintain a helpful presence when they need it.”  
“Excellent.” He turns around just as a small team surrounds a box rolling down the ramp. “Put that in the east lab. They’ll need to take samples and run some diagnostics.” He pauses. “Simmons, I’ll have Fitz debrief me on the semantics of this new tech.” Coulson turns to go to the lab. “I’m sure you have some other things to attend to.” The first smile Jemma’s seen from him since his return makes an appearance as he speaks just as Daisy steps out onto the top of the ramp.

Jemma doesn’t really remember Coulson departure, nor does she recall how she ends up in Daisy’s arms. But all of a sudden, she’s enveloped in warmth, finally at ease since Daisy left on the field team’s mission.

Jemma sighs deeply, breathing Daisy in, and grasps her shirt tighter in her fists. “I missed you.”

Daisy’s lips press against her temple. “Not as much as I missed you.” She laughs.

Jemma relishes this moment. It’s small and brief, but for her it’s everything. It’s everything because it’s the first time Jemma experiences something _normal_ since her return to the team and Daisy and what finally feels like her life. It feels like a new start.

“So, what have you been up to since I’ve been gone?” Daisy grabs her duffle from the personal cargo hold at the back of the ship. She slings her unoccupied arm over Jemma’s shoulders and guides her towards the holding dock.

“Oh, you know, isolating the genetic formula of Inhumans so that we can help serve them better as protectors. Simple stuff.” Jemma pulls Daisy closer. “That and I’m also trying to update the technology for your gauntlets so there isn’t as much physical strain on you hands and arms.” She grasps Daisy’s hand in her own, fondly brushing her thumb along her palm.

“You just don’t want me to lose the mobility of my magic fingers. I get it.” Daisy’s laugh is deep and carefree.

\--

The first time that Jemma kisses Daisy since her return, she feels like she’s flying. Her head spins and it’s almost as if all the breath in her leaves her body. It’s the simplest of kisses she’s shared with Daisy, but it feels like everything.

Jemma’s hands grasp at Daisy’s neck, knuckles pressing lightly into the headboard behind them. Her breathing, while shallow, is steady through her nose, and when she pulls her face back the slightest bit, Daisy lightly reconnects their lips for a moment of chaste bliss once more.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to feel comfortable enough to do that.” The words leave Jemma’s mouth before she can consider them fully. But she finds that once they’re out in the open, she doesn’t mind one bit that she actually said them.

Daisy smiles and laughs, “You know, I can honestly say that I’m extremely happy that you did that.” She leans her forehead against Jemma’s temple.

\--

Finding their rhythm together physically had been like coming home after a long day, easy and relaxing. Jemma was hesitant, but the feelings elicited from Daisy’s hands gliding over her skin and her lips pressing promises of safety into her shoulders and neck and collarbone gave Jemma solace.

Their alone time together had finally culminated in a haze of fierce kisses and gentle caresses. Daisy was careful, that much Jemma could tell. Jemma was always the one to push it further. A well placed bite or a needy grind of her hips set Daisy into overdrive. Instead of the light hold against her, Daisy gripped her ribs firmly, or if she felt the desire Jemma expressed, Daisy would grasp the slightly tense muscles of Jemma’s thighs.

Not only did Jemma control the pace, she was also always hovering above or straddling Daisy’s lap. Jemma felt safe there, and Daisy knew it without having to be told. Which is why when Jemma rolled them over one evening, Daisy pulled away from Jemma’s eager advances.

“You okay?” Daisy’s lips were kiss-swollen.

Jemma ran a hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face. “Of course.” She nods as her hands slide against Daisy’s neck and draw her back in.

Being under Daisy’s warm body sent fire through Jemma. Her fingers become alight with a tingling; a desire deep down tells her to find as much skin as she can. She feels Daisy shiver when her fingertips trace Daisy’s spine beneath her sweater. And noticing a lack of a bra, Jemma is catapulted into overdrive.

Her senses heighten to maximum capacity. All she can hear, see, taste, is Daisy.

“I want you.” Said in a rush between them.

Daisy pulls away again. Her eyes focused solely on Jemma’s. “Like, for real? Like, sex?”

Jemma laughs a little. “Exactly like sex.” Jemma caresses the length of Daisy’s back once more. “As long as that’s okay with you.” She smiles.

It’s infectious because Daisy’s lips pull into a face splitting grin. “I don’t think we have to worry about me being okay with it.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “But really, are you one hundred percent good with this?” She gestures between them quickly. “All this?”

Jemma nods, not just because she doesn’t have any words to describe how _okay_ she is, but because she is tired of waiting. Tired of thinking too much. She **wants** , and that’s enough for her.

“Okay then,” Daisy positions herself fully on top of Jemma once more, “Let’s do this.”

Jemma muffles a solid laugh against Daisy’s lips. Her hands tighten against warm skin, and she falls for the first time in a long time.

Clothes come off erratically, with a snag or two on Jemma’s part, and finally—thank fucking god, finally—Jemma lays beneath Daisy, fully bare and ready. Her thigh fits easily between Daisy’s. Wetness present against her drives her deeper into passion as she grinds against Daisy in sure cadence.

They groan together at the feeling, too far gone to say anything. Jemma is blissful and hot and sweaty. All that drives her is the need to be closer to Daisy, to experience everything that she’s been quietly missing. And it hits her suddenly. She’s coming against Daisy’s thigh with a low moan and inconsistent rolls of her hips. She grasps Daisy’s neck, mouth pressing against her damp temple, eyes closed.

Daisy slows her own hips, allowing Jemma her own pace. “Damn,” her breath warm against Jemma’s neck. “That was fucking hot.”

Somewhat satiated, Jemma runs a hand down Daisy’s abdomen to her center, which draws a gasp from Daisy. Her fingers find slickness as she slides into Daisy. Working her fingers just so, Jemma slips into a soft rhythm. And Daisy follows her lead with slow jerks and heavy breaths.

Almost never ceasing to come up for air, Jemma and Daisy redefine themselves and their relationship, one shaky breath and stuttering heartbeat at a time. Jemma seeks out the comfort that Daisy willing gives, and it’s just the same for Daisy herself. The notion that everything will work out ebbs and flows through each kiss, each caress, between them. Finally. Normalcy has returned.


End file.
